


90210

by hannahuwu



Series: Love Song [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Dancing, M/M, Memories, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahuwu/pseuds/hannahuwu
Summary: "I can't find (him) in the 90210,"
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong & Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Love Song [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745866
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	90210

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erierio_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erierio_o/gifts).



> Suggestion: listen to this song while reading https://youtu.be/stdr6o0-HOM (It's Ghost Of You by 5SOS)

Seonghwa turns to his side on the bed. There’s no weight pressing down on the other half, no dip in the mattress. Slowly he reaches under the bed and pulls out another box of cigarettes. The lighter flickers and his hand trembles, but he sets the end alight and takes a long drag, steadying his shaking heart after the dream he just had. He glances over to the other bedside table, the photograph of them staring back, next to a white mug with a slowly fading lipstick stain. He takes another drag.

_Inhale,_

_Exhale._

_“Hwa, look at me.”_

He snaps his head to the left, hearing the very voice that had left that stain. The voice that had pulled him out of bed, that had traced his face with a tenderness he had never been able to see in others. Nobody is there. Seonghwa wants to roll over, wants to spread himself on the king-sized mattress. But he still can’t bring himself to sleep on his lover’s side. He needs the side to be ready for when he comes back.

_Inhale,_

_Exhale._

He coughs against his palm, nursing his throbbing head before taking another drag.

_Inhale,_

_“Hwa, oh Hwa, look at how pretty that bed frame is!”_

He lets a stray tear fall before dropping his feet on the cold ground. Seonghwa makes his way into the kitchen and pulls out another bottle of absinthe and takes a shot absent-mindedly. It eases the pain momentarily. _What was that dream?_ He tries to recall, leaning back against the marble kitchen counter. He had been running in the house, chasing the red-haired man he loved so much.

_“So slow, Hwa.”_ Seonghwa could hear his laugh with an eerie clarity.

_“Joongie, Joongie.”_ He clutched at his chest at the memory of the dream, sinking to the wooden floor. Hongjoong was running from him, and Hongjoong was happy, and healthy, and Seonghwa was with him.

_“Come back to me, Hwa.”_ He heard his lover say in the dream, and then he was running out the front door.

_“No, no, Hongjoong!”_ His heart rate had picked up frantically by now, heaving through his pale lips as he shakily reached out for another shot. As he exited the house he was met with a familiar empty white cleanness he had grown to hate.

Then he woke up. And here he is now. Sobbing, ugly tears escaping the corners of his eyes as he muffles his frantic screaming. His legs give out under him and he drops to pieces, curling up around the white baby seater Hongjoong had picked out for when they had finished signing the adoption papers.

It never happened.

He cries out again, eyes bloodshot and lips bitten and bloody. Seonghwa passes out, and soon enough the dream returns.

_“Hwa, Hwa.” Hongjoong’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, pulling Seonghwa down to his level in a hug. Seonghwa holds on to the man like a lifeline, breathing in his cinnamon and honey scent. He runs his hands through the cherry red hair, memorising the way it falls around his face. Then Hongjoong is pulling his hand to the middle of their living room and sets his hands around his dainty waist, and he hears the smaller man hum a familiar tune that he can’t name. They dance, and they collapse onto the sofa in a fit of laughter as Hongjoong ends up pressing his face against Seonghwa’s chest._

_“Hwa, I lo-“_

The front door rings and Seonghwa gasps for breath, feeling strangled. He rises to his feet and takes another shot before pulling his head underneath the tap to drink. The knocking persists, and he (with much annoyance) walks over to answer it. He hears Hongjoong’s giggles and immediately wrenches it open, ready to embrace him.

Nobody.

Nobody is there, and Seonghwa drags himself into the living room to realise he’s hallucinating as he sees Hongjoong emerge from the balcony in his white shirt that is much too long for him, beckoning for him to rise as he hums the same tune. His Joongie feels so _real, so so very real_ that he lets himself be led to dance. He slowly begins to recognise the tune and he feels a lump lodge in his throat. His eyes have glassed over, and he slowly opens his mouth to sing in a broken string of syllables.

_“So I drown it out,_

_Like I always do._

_Dancing through our house,_

_With the ghost of you.”_

As the line ends, the hallucination fades and he falls, falling into a circle of wanting the one person he cannot have to hold, to love, to speak to, to laugh, to dance with. His phone rings with a reminder, and he rises back to bedroom to pull out a fresh change of clothes. In the process, he sees Hongjoong’s Led Zeppelin t-shirt underneath, untouched and folded neatly. He remembers when he bought it like it was yesterday, pulling it out of the drawer and putting it on instead. _It still smells like Hongjoong,_ he thinks as he makes his way to the uniform white building they lived behind.

The hospital smells like hand sanitiser and disinfectant, and it is _cold_ , so cold he feels more dead than he is. He jabs at the elevator button and runs out the moment the doors part, not bothering to sign his name in as a regular. He pushes the door open gently.

Room 90210.

It was almost ironic, that both his and Hongjoong’s once favourite show to watch now brought him such bitterness.

“Sweetness?” he calls out. There is no response. There has not been a response for a long time now, he recalls as he sinks into the plastic the chair beside Hongjoong, watching as his chest rises and falls steadily. He grips his lover’s hands and lets his face rest on his chest as he weeps into the thick hospital blanket. He hears the heart rate monitor quickening and glances up. Tears are slowly falling down Hongjoong’s face, but his eyes are shut. Seonghwa peppers his face with kisses in an attempt to calm him, but more water flows.

“Please come back to me,” he hoarsely whispers as the nurses run in to bring his heart rate back down. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :))))  
> I might write a continuation idk, leave a comment if you want a part 2 ig  
> come talk to me on twitter I have literally no friends ;-;  
> @hannah_uwo on twt


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